


The Darkest Hour

by little_sloth



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Mystery, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_sloth/pseuds/little_sloth
Summary: Sherlock and a mysterious girl meet on a rainy day, the only clues to her past and a dark and awful secret she has forgotten is a broken pocket-watch and a journal. Danger is approaching fast, and they need the Doctor and his TARDIS in order to unlock Evelyn's memories and the answer to why Missy is so keen on her getting her hands on the Lost Girl.





	1. Lost and Found

They met in a coffee shop.

Or rather, they were supposed to have met inside a coffee shop.

But the rain had muddled up Fate's plans and now they would have to meet rather differently.

It was raining, and not a gentle summer rain that smelled of newness and relaxation, the kind of rain were people stayed inside, huddled up under blankets or some type of afghan with a warm beverage clasped in between chilled hands in a mug or a cup, and a book or a newspaper beside them ready to picked up and read thoroughly.

This was the type of rain that just seemed to happen, suddenly and without warning. Where the sky was covered in dark and brewing clouds in an instant, and then big heavy sheets of rain poured on to the earth below, as if Mother Nature was having a nervous breakdown, or just seemed to be uncontrollably sobbing.

It was in this kind of weather, that the pair met. The first thing that the young lady noticed about him was not his eyes, which were ablaze with curiously and wonder, or his kind of smug, To-Me-You-Are-An-Idiot smile, nor was it his dark chocolate curls. The first thing she noticed about him was the navy-blue scarf that was wrapped around his neck all snug and tight, and his black thick coat, that had been bellowing up behind him only a moment ago, and now he had come to a complete halt, had it been her, who had made him abandon his rush for a matter that had only seconds before very rather important?

Rain dripped down from his curls and into his icy-blue eyes, but for now all he could feel was what little patience he had earlier was now wearing very nearly thin and nearly completely gone. He was supposed to be hailing a cab, so he could continue on with the very important matter that had been in his head. But here was this girl, no not a girl. A young woman, standing in front of him was using a worn and battered copy of  _The Sound and the Fury_ written by William Faulkner, as an umbrella. It was not her crimson red dress that flowed down past her knees that made him stop, nor was it the fact that they had nearly collided with each other, nor was it was the snow-white rose on the dress that blossomed where her chest was, or the fact that the stem and the thorns wrapped around the fabric and fit of the dress that was almost suggestive. It was not her bare feet, that were covered with dirt and other sorts of street grime, or that her nails were clipped, no not clipped, bitten down to the quick, caked with dried blood. It was not the freckles that were splattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks like a frustrated artist that kicks over a bucket of paint and lets the color fall and sprinkle where it lands. Nor was it her hair which was the color of Sepia brown, tangled, matted and need of a thorough wash and a brush.

It was her eyes; they were a caramel brown, warm and filled with compassion and understanding.

But an understanding of what exactly? Her eyes were bright with curiosity and a need for adventure, but there was also something else there, something that he could not quiet but his finger on and that bothered him greatly. Her eyes looked as if they had so much chaos and loss, heartbreaking sorrow, her eyes were old but still held a tiny flame of a life that she once must have had.

A kind but somewhat shrill voice came from the open doorway of 221 B Baker Street. The door was a deep and rich black coal color, the letters and numbers looked like gold. The elderly lady standing in the doorway had look of sympathy and the scolding look a mother would give their child if they had misbehaved.

"Invite her inside, Sherlock, before she catches a cold in this weather."

Both the girl and the man with navy blue scarf stared at each for a moment before he said, "Come inside, at least until the rain stops."

"Thank you." The young lady replied following him inside to the warmth of the two bedroom apartment, the stairs squeaked slightly as they made their way into the sitting room.

The wallpaper was white with a black design that could have been some type of flower, the older lady, who could possibly have been someone's grandmother kindly told her take a seat, she did on the couch, becoming aware of the smiley face that was painted in yellow and decorated with bullet holes.

It made her a little easy to see that, but the older lady and the man, who probably thought she was an idiot were not paying attention to the disgraced wall, no, no of course not.

'Oh, my! Darling, you're hurt!" the older woman exclaimed as she went into the small kitchen.

The girl looked down at her feet, they were painful, yes, but she thought it was because of how far she had been walking. That was until she saw the shards of glass that were sticking out of her bare feet, bleeding fresh once again over the caked and dried blood that was already there. She clutched  _The Sound and the Fury_ to her chest, she now feel warm salt water tears fluttering on the edges of her eyelashes, her book mark for the novel was a strand of navy blue knitting yarn. Around her waist was an old silver key that hung on one of the silver hooks of the coal black pocket watch that was hanging around her waist as a belt.

She suddenly felt the pain of shards in her feet as if it was lightning strike bringing her back to reality. There were also pieces of rubble in her feet as well, she struggled not to cry, but it flooded as if a dam had broken. "No, no, no!" she cried out, the pocket watch that was the size of a plate meant to host a teacup became unbearably hot, so hot that it burned the skin of Sherlock's wrist when he accidentally touched it, trying to get the drenched and screaming girl to calm down, before Mrs. Hudson's decided to call the police.

The private detective stepped back and glanced down at his wrist; it was red like sunburn and certainly felt like one. It was not a pleasant feeling, the young lady, who could have been a university student, who was shaking like a leaf in a chilled autumn breeze. She was clutching her head at the temples with scarred fingers that had dried blood where the nails used to be.

"There was so much…so much fire, pain, screaming, running, had to keep running."

Sherlock had seated himself in his chair and glanced at Mrs. Hudson, who was bringing them both a cup of tea. "What were you running away from?"

"I-I don't. I don't want to remember, I can't, it hurts my head." The young lady replied.

Sherlock tried not to roll his eyes in annoyance; the girl had probably gotten into a car accident and now had a minor case of amnesia. A boring case to see the least, but knowing John, he would take it up in a heartbeat the moment he stepped in their door with the Chinese takeout they were going to have for dinner.

Sherlock finally remembered where he had been meaning to go, that was to be on the hunt for new types of tobacco ash for his website. When he plopped down beside John's laptop, in came the Hobbit-sized man carrying up crinkling plastic bags that were filled with their dinner.

Once he was inside, he set the bags down on the kitchen table and began to set out the usual plates and silverware.

"You'll need to add an extra place, and would mind tending to her wounds. She's a bit worse for wear." Sherlock said almost bored, from where he was reading a rather heavy looking book in his chair.

John looked up from where he had been rummaging through the takeout for their proper orders. The first thing he noticed about the young lady was that she was sobbing and seemed to be rather tattered and beaten.

He quickly grabbed the medical kit from the bathroom, and snagged a clean towel from one of the kitchen drawers. He placed the kitchen towel underneath her feet, as the blood now dripped slowly on to the towel, instead of on to the floor.

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor. I'll fix up so we can take you to hospital." John said calmly as he began to slowly remove the shards of glass with a pair of tweezers, cleaning the wounds with hydrogen peroxide and then wrapping them up with bandages. "My name is John Watson. Do you know what your name is?"

The lady shrugged, and followed the light from the torch that John was slowly examining her eyesight and face with. There was dust and bits of stone and glass also in her hair, and what could have been tangled in knots was dried blood. He frowned in concern and glanced at Sherlock.

"Where did you find her?"

"I didn't." he replied casually.

"I found him." The lady replied softly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this, and set his book down. "Tell me, why you need my assistance? Do not make it boring."

"I lost someone very close to me…" her voice became sad as she spoke.

Sherlock was about to say the word, 'boring.' But before he could the lady continued. "But the problem is that, you see, he can change his face, his whole appearance, and that's why I can't find him.

Now this piqued the private detective's interest. "Does he have a name?"

The Lady set her lips into a straight line of thought before saying, "No, but he has a title…"

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "And that would be?"

"The Doctor."

"Do you have a name?" John asked again, hoping that if she could remember her closest friend then she could at least remember her own name.

"I have this." She opened up the bag that had been hanging against her left hip like a pouch and pulled out a rather large looking journal from inside the tiny navy blue pouch with its silver draw string.

Inside the journal was a letter, a hand-written letter, which was odd for this day and age of technology.

_My dearest Evelyn,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and sound wherever you maybe, but please come home, we miss you. We know that finding out that you are adopted can be a scary and frightening thing, but we are hoping you will return to us so your father and I can explain to you, why we did not tell you, you were adopted sooner._

_Please come home, I am worried sick._

_Love from all of my heart,_

_Mum_

There was an address on the back; the owners of the address had to be her adoptive parents: Donna Temple-Noble and Shaun Temple. There was even a picture of Evelyn with her parents, an older sister named Penelope, a younger brother, Curtis, and a basset hound named, Gus. Evelyn was in the middle of the picture, she seemed to be happy, wearing a matching school uniform with her brother and sister.

"They live in Cardiff." Sherlock said in a bored tone. "We can easily call her cab and bring her home, or if her parents would rather bring her to a psych word we can do that."

"No, you can't!" Evelyn protested, standing up on her wobbly legs and still aching feet. "You don't understand, I'm being chased by something! I need to find The Doctor!"

"What are you being chased by?" John asked, his face was still filled with concern.

"I-I don't know…I can't remember…but I can feel it…I can feel it!" Evelyn protested, her shaking hands were now fists.


	2. Who am I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters three and four will be posted this Saturday, November 17th.

~~~~

Evelyn was standing in front of Sherlock, her hands were shaking now, tears were trickling down her dirty face and her soft caramel brown eyes were sparkling with fear and something else he could not quiet catch, a sense of knowing? There were goosebumps lining her skin as if she was cold, and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. She was acting like a child who refused to go to bed until her bedroom closet and under the bed had been checked, just to make sure that there were not any monsters hiding in the dark depths of the shadows.

“You’re paranoid…” Sherlock said, standing up from his chair, the letter from a worried mother in his hand and her journal.

Several of the pages were loose. There were pictures of a dark blue police box scribbled on almost all of the pages in the corners that were gripped when somebody wanted to turn the page. There were also tally marks made in red inks, little bits and pieces of what could have been dreams. The eighteen-year-old kept a dream journal…how cute…disgustingly cute.

He skimmed through the pages: there were drawings of faces, men’s faces, thirteen of them. All different men, but they all had the same ancient and knowing eyes. There were drawings of a multi-colored scarf that was becoming unraveled, a bow tie coming loose, a piece of celery that was wilting, a tie and a pair of trainers both worn and looking worse for wear and a silver pocket watch. Drawings of monsters and newspaper articles about alien attacks on Christmas, disappearances of people in Cardiff, a newspaper article about the day an alien ship that had crashed into Big Ben. In a navy-blue pen underlined and boxed in a rainbow of colors was the phrase, “Mad Man in a Blue Box” and “THE DOCTOR”.

There were also scribbles of phrases in quotation marks:

“ _Come along, my dear!”_

“ _People spend all their time making nice things and then other people come along and break them.”_

“ _A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.”_

“ _You might be "a doctor" I am "the doctor", the definite article you might say.”_

“ _There’s always something to look at if you open your eyes.”_

“ _In all my_ _traveling's_ _throughout the universe, I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here. The oldest civilization, decadent, degenerate and rotten to the core. Power-mad conspirators, Daleks!, Sontarans, Cybermen!, they're still in the nursery compared to us. Ten million years of absolute power, that's what it takes to be really corrupt!”_

“ _If we fight like animals, we die like animals.”_

“ _I love humans. Always seeing patterns in things that aren’t there…”_

“ _Fantastic!”_

“ _Allons-y!”_

“ _Come along, Pond!”_

When he looked up at Evelyn, the young girl was pacing back and forth, her wrapped up feet rubbing against the floor, her eyes were shut and her hands were clasped in front of her, _The Sound and the Fury_ still clutched to her chest like a lifeline. There was also information about Evelyn in the journal, how she had been found by a policeman named Tom Price and his partner, Gwen Cooper.

She had been found as a five-year-old wandering the streets, her body caked in building dust, smudges of ash, blood, and her feet and fingers suffering from burns. She was brought to the hospital because the only word, she kept wailing was “Doctor!” and they thought that she had been trying to get help.

The only object that she had on her, was the coal black pocket watch, the key had been tied around her neck by the piece of navy blue knitting string that as of now served as a bookmark. They could not find any information about her; it was as if she had simply fallen from the sky, and with no one coming to claim her. News reports had been done about her, the little girl with a hardly a rag left of her dress, came wandering out of an alley, sobbing loudly with fear and loss.

She did not have a birth certificate, did not remember the names of her parents. Did not know who she was, or how she had ended up there in Cardiff during the middle of a thunderstorm with lightning streaking across the sky. As a lost little girl, she sipped at the cup of hot chocolate that Tom Price had given her; she was still shaking and shivering, now wrapped up in a very large sweatshirt that had been found in the Lost and Found box of the police department.

They had asked what she had been named or if anyone had ever called her anything, she looked up at Tom Price and Gwen Cooper with her big doe eyes all full hope and wonder, and simply answered in a very serious, non-joking tone, “I am the Flame of Wars, I am the One Who Comes When Others Cry, I am the Lost One, but I am never alone. He called me ‘Life’, so that is what I am meant to be, what I shall be, and what I will stay.”

That was when Evelyn noticed the woman standing in the doorway of the police station, her lips were a crimson red, and even though she opened up her arms in a what should have been a welcoming embrace, and a smile that would have melted hearts, it only made Evelyn want to run away as fast as she could from the woman and the two younger ladies she had behind her. There was something not quite right about the lady; as if there was something missing from her…time seemed to stand still in that moment. The clock stopped ticking; coffee stopped flowing into a police officer’s mug mid-pour. The coal black pocket watch that she held in her hands became as hot as boiling water, but it did not burn her. The pocket watch pulsated like a beating heart.

Their eyes met and she wanted to scream, “Leave me alone! Go away!” But the words were caught in her throat.

The lady with the evil glint in her eye, swept the lost and frightened girl away, it was in and old and creaky four bedroom home that Missy gave her a name, Evelyn. She stayed in the downstairs bedroom alone, the two older girls, twins, at least ten years of age. They both had rusty red hair and hazel eyes. They were her foster sisters, Rebecca and Catherine.

Missy was their foster mother. And even though Missy insisted that Evelyn called her, “Mummy.” She flat out refused to do so because Missy frightened her, no matter how loving the woman was.

Evelyn did not like living with the two girls, it was if they were hallow, and their eyes were empty and did not seem to have a spark of life in them. They followed Mummy Missy’s orders like robots, they were supposed to be keeping an eye on little Evelyn. She walked to school with Rebecca and Catherine, they met her in the hallway after her class was over and walked her to the next one, and they even walked her back home. The only place where Evelyn could be truly alone was her bedroom, it was there that she wrote in the journal all about her nightmares and the life she was currently living. The coal-black pocket watch was either in her hands while she slept, or tied around her waist, the key that had been around her neck now hung in the same chain as her pocket watch.

It was in the middle of the night, Evelyn was struggling to fall asleep, every time she did, she thought she saw something in the corner, it had white skin with pitch black dark eyes, and it wore a suit, but every time she began to close her eyes, she would forget about the creature in the corner. She clutched the watch as tight as she possibly could, and as she drifted off to sleep, she could hear a familiar voice saying, the man who wore a bow tie saying to her in a soft voice, _“What are you? They’re all here, all of them, all for you. What could you possibly be?”_

“This man you are looking for…all he has is a title?” Sherlock questioned, as Evelyn sat on the couch, staring at her hands. “And you think that something is chasing you…but you can’t remember what it is? How is this Doctor supposed to help you?”

“He and I…we’re connected somehow…I can feel it, it feels like when there is rain dripping outside on a windowpane and you want so badly to touch it, but you can’t because there is a wall of glass in the way.” Evelyn struggled to explain.

“I don’t do missing person cases…” Sherlock said, making his way toward the kitchen table so he could get what he had ordered for dinner.

“He isn’t the one who is lost. I am. I am lost and he needs to find me.” Evelyn said, almost in a demanding tone. She was not crazy and she knew it, why didn’t anyone ever believe her?

“But in order for him to find you, you need to find him first?” John Watson asked, if this was the case, then this seemed nearly impossible.

“Yes,” Evelyn felt a small smile slip across her face before it disappeared into a mask of confusion and hopelessness. “If I only knew how…”

“When were you adopted by your parents?” John asked quietly, if Sherlock was not intrigued by the case now, which he seemed to be.

Sherlock was busily separating his dinner, but John could tell that even if Sherlock did not seem interested, he was at least listening.

“On my seventh birthday…in nineteen ninety-seven. But I have never felt my age, I’ve always felt older. As if I’ve experienced more.” Evelyn let out a sigh that sounded as if she was nearly defeated, she sat herself back down on the sofa.

Sherlock still had her journal and right now his eyes were narrowed as he concentrated on a page that seemed to be separated from the rest of the journal. All of the pages were marked with dark blue tabs, at the top of each page was written: _Section with Jane Turner_ along with the date and time.

“Jane Turner is your psychologist.” He said in a tone that began to sound as if he was not sure if he should trust Evelyn and what she was telling him.

“Mental behavioral counselor…” when Evelyn corrected the term to one her adopted mother used, there was hate and disgust in the words. “She diagnosed me with depression, attention deficient hyper active disorder and insomnia…apparently I walk in my sleep, have trouble contracting, and I am suffering from depression. But if you felt like you didn’t belong, if you felt as if you are meant to be something more then you really are…wouldn’t that cause you to be depressed too? I don’t know where I belong, I have no idea who I am.”

Sherlock gently closed the journal and handed it back to Evelyn. “That woman just wants to pick at your brain…see how you work, and all she wants to do is squash what makes you unique, she just wants to make you _normal_.”

John Watson stared at his best friend, he was in disbelief. A woman that they hardly knew at all, was somehow prying her way through the tiniest of cracks in the walls that surrounded Sherlock Holmes.

“I don’t want to be normal, I just want to be me.” Evelyn said, and she was smiling, because she thought that perhaps Sherlock could be her kindred spirit. “And in order to do that, I need to find The Doctor. He knows who I am, who I was.”

“I will help you find him.” Sherlock said, “You should call your parents.”

Evelyn nodded and with shaking hands took out her mobile, she pressed the picture of her parents that said home underneath it, and with dread digging deeper inside of her, and she listened to the phone ring and the panicked voice of her mother, when Donna answered.

“Mum, I’m sorry…” the three words came out soaked with fresh tears.


	3. Connections Unseen at a Glance

When her mobile rang, Donna Temple-Noble was sitting in the worn and comfortable armchair with a cup of tea in her hands, but instead of drinking it, the liquid caught the tears that fell from her face and the edge of her eyes, as the salt water mixed into the drink. She had a photo album in her lap and she had been staring at the picture that Shaun had taken of her, Evelyn, and Penelope the day that Evelyn’s adoption was finalized. Instead of Evelyn Doe, she would now and forever be Evelyn Grace Temple-Noble.

Penelope had been eight years old, when Donna had decided to adopt the little girl, but Penelope had had a difficult time adjusting to not being the only child anymore and being a big sister.

She remembered the first day she saw little Evelyn. Her dark chocolate hair had been braided into twin fishtails, she was wearing a snow-white dress that was decorated with red poppies, and white tights with red Maryjane shoes. She had her face buried in the work of Agatha Christie, _The Body in the Library_. Children ran and screamed around her, but the kindergartener did not seem bothered by it in the least, she simply turned the page. Donna sent Penelope off to play with her school friends, Heather and April on the playground where the girls were swinging on the swing set as high as they possible could.

Donna Temple-Noble sat down beside the girl, for a moment she had a headache and the image of a gigantic wasp and a man who thought that salt was too salty flashed across her vision. She shook it away and smiled softly as the little girl peeked at her from behind the chapter she was reading, Donna silently reminding herself to take her migraine medication when she returned home with Penelope.

“Do you like the book so far? Agatha Christie is one of my favorite authors.” She said, using her gentle mother-voice.

“Yes, I’ve read many of her books. Even though Missy is afraid I am not _adult enough_ to read them.” The six-year-old replied.

“Missy?” Donna questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, she not my actual mother…she is just looking after me.” The timid kindergartener replied, she gently placed a tattered bookmark with a single dark blue strand of yarn at the top, she tucked it in between the pages to mark her spot in the chapter. “Her…” the way that said the single word was mixture of fear and distain.

A woman with the same dark chocolate hair as the little girl approached, she wore dark lipstick and was wearing a navy blue dress that was the style of a 50’s housewife. Behind her were two girls with matching bitter black licorice colored braids that went down to drape at the end of where their ribcages were, their skin was pale, nearly paper white. They wore dresses that were navy blue and checkered white. It was their eyes that sent shivers down Donna’s spine, they were the color of amber sunset beams that had drifted through a windowpane and had made the dust in the air come to life and be seen. Gorgeous, but dead. There was not a spark of life or a touch of soul within them.

Donna looked back at the six-year-old little girl, she was visibly shaking with fear. Donna felt her heartache, the same love that she felt when she held Penelope as a newborn baby in her arms. That night after Penelope had been tucked into bed sound asleep after a story and warmed milk with cinnamon, Donna sat in the living room with her husband the television a low hum of late night talk show host and guest in the background.

They were living in a quaint two-bedroom flat within walking distance to the school where Penelope attended classes and took ballet after lessons were over. The only child was going to have to learn to share and love a sibling that was not hers by blood.

It took a year, but when Evelyn came home with them, she called them Mummy and Daddy as soon as they picked her up from her foster home and they were inside the flat. Penelope was bitter and cold to her adopted little sister, ignoring her questions that were filled with curiosity, pretending that she did not exist when they were out in public, and at school Evelyn was not even allowed to speak to her, yet alone acknowledge that they were siblings.

When the girls were twelve and fourteen, Donna found out that was she was pregnant with Curtis, her husband was pleased, Penelope was overjoyed. Evelyn hugged her mother but her eyes and body language seemed strangely distant. Later that night, Donna and Shaun tucked their daughters in bed. Shaun noticed how Evelyn seemed ill at ease as she fiddled with two of the eight legs of her butter yellow octopus, Huit. Her honey colored eyes were brimming up with tears.

Shaun gathered Evelyn into his lap, from where he sat on the bed and held her until she was ready to talk. He knew that was far too old to be held like a little girl, but she did not seem to mind, only laid her head upon his chest to hear his heart beat in his chest.

“You’re not being replaced, Lyn-G. I promise.” His voice was deep like an echoing cavern and his hold was strong and comforting. It was her nickname for her, had been since she had become a part of their family, he called Penelope, Penny-T. Penelope’s middle name was Tamour.

“I know, Daddy. That isn’t what is bothering me.” She whispered, her eyes not pulling away from the navy blue button ones and stitched smile of Huit.

“What is bothering you?”

“You’re going to leave us, Daddy.”

“I am not going anywhere, I promise.”

Evelyn shook her head furiously, “Daddy, you are going to be leaving…and you won’t be coming back.” Her eyes drifted to the coal black pocket-watch that rested on her nightstand.

Shaun tucked her back in and kissed her softly on the forehead, the soft skin between her dark eyebrows. “I pinky-promise I am not going to leave any of you.” He turned on the nightlight that was near Evelyn’s bookcase and left the bedroom.

On the celebration of Curtis’ fourth birthday, Evelyn’s words to her father became true.

He had been suffering headaches for over a year, was struggling to form words at times of great importance. With the vanilla cake just finished being lathered with butter-cream frosting by the gentle and artistic hand of Evelyn, she turned to look over her shoulder as a horrid crash resounded throughout the kitchen. Her father had been about to retrieve the cookie dough flavored ice cream from the freezer, but now he was on the floor by the counter in the middle of the kitchen that was meant for baking on weekends for Evelyn and her mother and serving expensive cheese and wine on the nights her parents hosted dinner parties and get-togethers with close neighborhood friends.

Evelyn rushed over to where her father lay, not caring in the least that her brand-new rosewood colored dress was getting soaked with white wine. Every single muscle in Shaun’s body was bedeviled by muscle spasms, all she could see was the white of his eyes for they had rolled within his head. It looked as if he was being electrocuted, drool was forming on the sides of his mouth and his slacks had become soaked with urine.

Trembling with fear, Evelyn grabbed the phone off of its cradle and somehow managed to punch in the number nine three times. Donna, Penelope, and Curtis were out getting the rest of the party supplies, she was all alone. She stayed by her father, the only one she had ever known according to her shattered mind. Evelyn stayed on the line with the operator until she could see the lights from the ambulance shining against the bluebird wallpaper that decorated the kitchen.

It was one of the paramedics that called to inform Donna what had happened while she had basketful of party favors and balloons that still needed to be filled with air. Penelope, close to heading off to Queen Mary University of London in the Autumn, held Curtis as he fiddled with his ratty old stuffed animal bear named Mister Bum, handed down to him by his eldest sister.

The basket fell from her hand and she tried to calmly move her children out to the car. Unfortunately, her panic showed through like glancing into a mirror. She ran down the hallway with tears blurring her vision as she dodged past nurses and patients in ugly light green hospital gowns. When she finally reached the ICU where her husband was, she crumbled to her knees sobbing and wailing, seeing her husband hooked up to so many machines with tubes in him.

“Mum! MUM!” She lifted her head with great difficulty as if it was being held down by her own distraught sorrow. Evelyn was buried in the fabric of her t-shirt in moments, her eyes red and puffy.

“I’m so sorry, Mum. I tried…I tried.” Sobs made her words difficult to understand, coded with mucus and tears. The broken coal black pocket watch that hung around her daughter’s waist on a silver linked chain burned hot like a heated iron poker ready for branding.

The tumor that had been hiding within Shaun’s brain matter and tissue ruptured after he was in the hospital for a month. It took Donna another four to come to grips with the fact that they could not afford to keep her husband alive on machines and struggle to take care of her three children. His organs were donated because that was what Shaun had left in his will.

It was after the wake and funeral that Donna dragged her exhausted body up the stairs where her children’s bedrooms were. Penelope’s room was blaring one of her favorite romantic comedy films from the television, Curtis was fast asleep with Gus the hound cuddled up beside him, the door always open enough for Donna to pop her head in to check on him. It was after eleven, nearly midnight. She should have been telling Penelope to get to bed because she had choir practice tomorrow morning, Curtis had football practice, and Evelyn had her piano lessons and then her job as a curator to the museum. Evelyn had always been a child prodigy, her mind filled with such a rich grasp of historical events and artifacts. Now at only sixteen, she had her PhD in history, anthropology, and art history.

Donna stopped at Evelyn’s door and found it to be eerily quiet behind it. She opened the door to find her youngest daughter’s bed made so precisely a quarter could be bounced off of it. Her coal black pocket watch was gone, some of her clothes were gone from within her dresser. On the bed, leaning against the butter-yellow stuffed animal octopus was a note. But the language was not something that Donna recognized, it was alien to her.

A conversation that should have been long forgotten and dissipated like smoke, suddenly came to mind as clear as a sunny day.

_She might have been stubborn as a bull back then, but that didn’t mean that she just going to listen to a man wearing sneakers and a detective’s-like duster._

“ _Who are you?”_

_He answered as if this question was one he was used to, but he never seemed too tired of answering. “The Doctor. You?”_

“ _Donna.”_

_He then asked her a question that she found to be rather out of place. “Human?”_

“ _Yeah. Is that optional?”_

_Her answer was given so casually it was almost frightening. “Well, it is for me.”_

Donna found herself on her knees in her pajamas, still in Evelyn’s bedroom with her head resting against the mattress and the quilt on top of it as if she was about to pray before she went to bed. Hearing the shuffling of slipper socks against the carpet, Donna turned her head to look at her eldest daughter. She had left the door wide open, the hallway light streaming in casting their shadows on the walls and the carpet.

“She’s gone.” Donna found herself whispering as the sobs broke her and Penelope held her close, rocking her like a child that had been caught in a nightmare.

“Gone where?” Penelope asked, her question filled with anger at the thought of Evelyn being so selfish that she would just up and leave her family.

“I lost her.”

Donna was dragged from her memories as her mobile rang for the second time. She gingerly picked it up as if it was going to bite her and held it to her ear. With a shaky voice, she asked. “Who is this?”

“Mum…I’m so sorry…”

“Evelyn, where are you?” she demanded desperately, her fingers now squeezing the phone until they hurt.

“I can’t…Mum, I’m safe for now.” Her second eldest child replied.

“Evelyn…it’s been…”

“A really long time, Mum, I know. Don’t try to find me. It’s too dangerous, you aren’t safe with me.”

“Evelyn.”

The phone went silent and the calling number was blocked, no way for her to reach daughter again. The cup fell from her lap as she stood with shaking legs, cold tea seeped into the carpet and on to bottom of her barefeet and in between her toes.

She glanced at the man behind her. The one who called himself Captain Jack Harkness.

“C-Can you find my daughter?”

“With a little bit of help from a Madman with a Blue Box, yes.” He answered, holding the note that Evelyn had left her mother the night she had disappeared.

He left the quiet home of Donna Temple-Noble. He passed the daughter known as Penelope, who was busy smoking a cigarette on the steps that lead up to the main entrance of the house, while her brother, Curtis and Gus ran through the sprinkler that their mother had set up to beat away the thick heat of summer.

Jack continued to make his way down the sidewalk until he made his way inside a small café. A man sat at a corner table dipping fish fingers into custard, while he read the newspaper.

Jack sat across from him and dug the note out of the pocket of his jacket, and slid it toward the man behind the newspaper.


	4. The Impossibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 will be posted on Monday, November 26th. Please leave a comment and kudos.  
> -little sloth

Evelyn slipped her own mobile back into the pouch-shaped bag that hung on the chain with her coal black pocket watch against her right hip. The bag did not seem big enough to hold all of her personal effects, including her cherished book. She was not sure if she should sit or stand. Her mother had been pleading and desperate, she wanted her little girl to come home. Both of her parents, she had to dodge a car that looked like his when he had been searching for her, while she did her best to stick to the shadows and only travel at night when it was darkest. Now at the pressing of the man with the navy blue scarf, the one that Evelyn had needed to find, she had called her mother, the woman who had adopted her, and had now given her parents renewed hope that she was still alive, still out in the world.

No, not both of her parents. Her father was dead. He had been for such long time but still the guilt inside of her for not being able to do anything to save Shawn Temple, the guilt gnawed at her every single day, she could not even escape it in her dreams. If her father was still alive…then he would have kept looking for her even if the police gave up.

Stupid, it was stupid of her. She should not have called them; her family would have been better mourning her then in danger.

What if Missy Mummy and her two soulless “daughters” tracked down her mother, her sister, or even little Curtis and harmed them in anyway?

She choked down the fear growing in her throat.

Somehow she would find a way to get rid of the monster in a woman’s body.

But finding the Man of Many Faces would have to be top priority, without him she would be lost forever, never able to understand the reason why her mind was shattered like glass, memories that she should have had were not there.

What little girl did not know who her birth parents were or where she had lived?

The Doctor would give her answers she sought, she had to believe that!

She glanced over at Sherlock, who sat in his chair with his fingers intertwined with his chin resting on top, deep in thought. John had left when she called her mother, either to give her privacy or to run out for some matter of importance that was only his to know.

She had been clutching the phone so desperately that her hands were now shaking. She stole another glance at Sherlock, who was now pinning a gigantic map of London. With it he had taken the articles from her journal and was placing them in chronological order, when he had all of her information, he stepped back and stared at it briefly. The mysterious girl with bandaged feet was beside him in a moment, looking at his work with wide eyes.

Her fingers gently touched a picture that Sherlock had found of a man by the name Harold Saxon, there was something about his eyes and smile that sent a chill of fear down Evelyn’s spine and blood stream. “No…no, no, NO!” she screamed stumbling backwards, entangled in her own feet as she landed roughly, a little too close to the coffee table almost whacking her head. She clutched at the pocket watch that was around her waist with both hands, squeezing it as if it was an orange that would drop out juice in tiny little splats.

Sherlock looked over at her, a marker in his hands, uncapped and smelling fowl of the odor of a fresh unused permit marker. He did not say a word, not yet. He simply observed her, Evelyn, as she shivered and quaked, rocking herself back and forth. He was afraid that she had finally had a psychotic break and that he should be calling John and Mary to help him get to her to a safe hospital before she harmed herself.

He crouched down to her level and gently wiped her dark brown hair that was nearly black out of her face, so he could see her eyes. The strands of hair stuck almost stubbornly practically glued to her cheeks by the salty tears that had dried. Her eyes seemed to be vibrating, shifting from side to side as if she was frightened that something was going to come through the flower-patterned walls to snatch her away.

“Saxon…and Missy…they have the same smile, the same look in their eyes. The same madness. It’s as if they were the same person.”

“They couldn’t possibly.” Holmes said, his fingers reaching toward a teacup, the liquid within now cold.

The detective’s eyes fell to Evelyn’s bandaged feet and up to ruined attire. Perhaps if she was able to relax and cleanse herself of the dirt and exhaustion, the strange woman might be able to start making sense. He abandoned the cup and exited to his own bedroom, moments later he returned with a fresh towel from the linen closet, and one of his own white buttoned down dress shirts.

Since John had moved in with Mary, the soon to be trio needed their own space, to raise a family. And besides Sherlock was not very fond of children, or other people for that matter. The bedroom was once vacant, which made it the perfect place for Evelyn to stay. Mrs. Hudson would be very cross, if he did not allow Evelyn to at least stay until he finished the case that she had sunk him into.

A man with many faces…an intriguing case to say the least.

He placed the towel and shirt into Evelyn’s hands and showed her where the lavatory was located.

“Thank you…” Evelyn stuttered as her face burned red.

Sherlock’s only response was a nod and a closed-lip smile, as Evelyn entered the space, and he shut the door behind her.

The silence of the bathroom was a hum of welcome, as she sat on the toilet after setting down the seat and lid. She undid the bandages that were on her feet, tossing them into the garbage. She grimaced at the sight of the wounds on the soles. She released her arms from the shoulder straps of her dress and let it fall to the floor, in a dirt and soot mess. The hot water poured from the shower head once she turned the nob. Evelyn enjoyed just the feeling of the water washing the filth that was on her skin and in her hair. She left the shower dripping wet, clean, and smelling like a man, since Sherlock did not have any ladylike scented shampoo or soaps. Not that Evelyn minded in the least, she was just happy to be feeling a lot less filthy.

Evelyn used the corner of the towel that she used to dry herself, to wipe away the steam that was on the surface. Just as she pulling Sherlock’s white button down dress-shirt over her head. Her caramel colored eyes met with something she thought that was from her over-active childhood imagination at night. The creature that stood in the corner of her room, with its hallowed eye-sockets and nonexistent mouth, like the man in Edvard Munch’s painting, _The Scre_ am. But something protruded from its light bulb shaped forehead, a mask of silver.

She did just that, she screamed in pure terror. Now instead of empty eyes, it looked like an evil toaster with eyes. Its voice came out in a robotic whisper that sounded like something Missy used to say to her in her ear, like their own private secret, every time she would hug the orphan child that cried ‘Doctor’ in her nightmares.

“I need you to know we're not so different! You’ll find the truth one day, darling, and it will break you apart.”

Sherlock came rushing in, the tea kettle left behind to whistle sharply. The mirror shattered to pieces as he hit it alarmingly hard with the stand of lamp. Shards rained down around them, as Sherlock pulled Evelyn to her feet and guided her out of the glass covered bathroom by the hand.

Once they were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, Sherlock poured her a cup of tea and handed it to her. Evelyn took the hot cup with shaking hands, and blew on it to cool it down. She picked tiny silvers of glass from the mirror out of her hair.

“What was that thing within the mirror?” Sherlock questioned. He knew for certain now that could not possibly be Evelyn’s own, nor a hallucination for he had seen it too.

The mystery woman searching for the man with the changing face closed her eyes and shook her head, as if she, herself, was still figuring out how to answer.

“I think…it’s a warning, a memory…maybe a clue? But Missy would never be _that_ helpful, not if she wants me dead or worse…”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and passed her the jar of honey, that was in the shape of a beehive to her. Evelyn put at least four spoonful’s into her tea, and stirred it. Seemingly lost in thought.

_What could be worse than death?_

He must have said it aloud, because Evelyn’s fingers released the small honey laced spoon and their eyes met. “Not knowing who you truly are.”

Sherlock found himself needing to change the subject, he was not good with conversations that did not involve a need for the complex brilliant logic that he possessed. Human emotions and seeking to comfort someone else was something he could not seem to grasp. Save for when he was with John, Watson was his dear and only friend.

Would he sometime in the near future have Evelyn as friend as well?

He was glad that Evelyn had given him something else to focus on than trying to comfort the young woman’s unraveling emotions. The case that she had offered him was something he could do; he could find her answers. He could find the Mad Man with the Blue Box.

There were copies of Saxton’s campaign photo and one that Evelyn had tucked inside her journal, a very detailed drawing of Missy. The tips of her fingers gently touched each of them.

“It is not humanly possible for them to the same person, Evelyn.” He said, sipping his tea.

Her honey eyes met Sherlock’s ocean-during-a-storm blue. They were filled with fear, tears brimming at the edges threatening to fall. Evelyn’s hand found Sherlock’s, and she held on to three of his fingers with her whole hand. Like a child seeking comfort, trying to someone to understand what was happening. Someone to show her where she needed to go to, someone to show her the answers. The human contact with someone he barely knew, was unnerving. Somewhere deep inside, he and Evelyn had a connection he could not comprehend. And that bothered the genius greatly.

Her reply to his somewhat parroted comment came out in breaths quaking with fear in between the sentences.

“They…he…she…might not be human.”

Sherlock could only stare at her and it might have been his lack of sleep causing him to hallucinate, but he was sure that he heard a deep groan from the pocket watch that now rested against within the pocket where Evelyn’s heartbeat. He was positive he had heard it begin to tick and tock, and puffs of bright gold light that danced in the air like dust came from the watch as well.

Evelyn stood shakily, her conclusion must have sapped her of whatever energy she had had left, her hands were pressed against the table and she was quaking so much it echoed through the table. The cup her tea had once been in was now empty. She did not make a grab for the sugar cookies Mrs. Hudson had left for them while John Watson had been bandaging her feet. Even though she had not eaten a thing since Sherlock had invited her in.

Evelyn visibly winced as if she had gotten a sudden mind-numbingly painful headache. The words that Missy Mummy had said to her the very first night she had tucked into bed.

_Every miner needs a canary._

Haunted and frightfully-filled honey colored eyes met his ocean-in-a-storm blue.

“I may not be human.”


	5. He Who Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for being a day late on updating. Chapter 6 will be posted on December 3rd, please leave a comment or a kudos, or both!
> 
> -little sloth

The newspaper wrinkled in the one aged hand that was still holding it, while the other lazily stirred the fish fingers deeper in the custard, before it disappeared behind the fort of ink and paper. Jack Harkness sat across from him, the picture of Evelyn in between them. She was young in this picture, at least sixteen. A smile on her face that could have been contagious, the man who could have been called old or ancient took the picture into his hands and held it. He could practically feel the agony that held within her and the millions of questions that flooded her mind every day.

But he had to make sure she had to be kept safe, that could not remember who she was, what she was. Because of him, she was lost and that caused an ache in his heart. But he had done it to protect her, but still his protection had not been enough and Missy had found her.

The corners of the picture crinkled a little and he released his iron grip on it. The air around the small town where Donna Temple-Noble and her tight-knit family lived was tight like she was living in a fish tank and could not get to the outside world.

“Can you break what she has done to this place?” Jack asked, even he felt as if he had been suffocating until he escaped to the café that was out of reach of Missy’s grasp.

“I can with the T.A.R.D.I.S. but it will need major repairs afterword and that would mean leaving…what has she been named here?”

“Evelyn.” Jack replied to the Mad Man with the Blue Box.

“It will mean leaving Evelyn in danger for a while longer.”

“But Donna is important to you isn’t she? Doesn’t she and her family deserve to be caught up with the rest of the world?”

“Yes. I never thought that Missy would find the power to control a Time Loop, let alone make one.” His face crinkled with concern and fear, he could no longer keep it masked. He stood and abandoned his meal of fish fingers and custard. “You will track her down…won’t you?” he asked turning back to the Accidental-Immortal Man.

Jack nodded and followed the Doctor to where he had parked the machine that was for most of its existence lost in Time and Space. Jack watched him twirl and pound different switches and knobs, was almost knocked on his backside when the Machine of the Time Lords shook and shuddered and finally after what felt like hours, the Time Loop busted with the sound of a nuclear explosion and shook the entire place to its knees. Captain Jack Harkness felt time catch up with the rest of the world, like being on a roller coaster that plastered you against the wall with nothing but speed and force, until one could puke out their guts entirely.

Donna Temple-Noble grasped at her aching skull, it felt as if it had been slammed into a brick wall. The clocks had spun until they were broken, the calendar that had once said the year two thousand and six, now said two thousand and sixteen. How could time pass without her knowing. Her body had suddenly aged rapidly, as had that of her daughter and son. Whatever had happened to them had not been natural. At least it should not have been. Penelope was out on the lawn puking until she was nothing but dry heaving. Curtis was unconscious and feeling as if the world was unsteady underneath her, she staggered her way out to the front yard where a man that looked to be in his late fifties was kneeling beside Penelope, her head cradled in his hands.

The old man’s hands began to glow a soft golden color and Penelope stopped whimpering like a wounded animal. Tears streamed down her daughter’s caramel colored face, but so did a weak smile. Penelope sat up right and backed away from her own pile of sick, before she grabbed the hose and rinsed it off the grass. The man then knelt down to Curtis and did the same for him as he had for Penelope. The now fourteen-year-old hugged the elderly Gus close and watched as the man made his way up the stairs and inside the house to where Donna was sitting with her body resting against behind the back of the couch.

The words that she wanted to speak came out choked and wounded. “I know you…knew you…you had a different face then.”

“Yes, I am so sorry Donna.” He took her hands in his own.

“Doctor.” She gave him a fragile smile, her mind still hurting as if she had been smashed into cement.

“Let me fix your mind…” he said gently and he placed his hands on her head near her temples.

Memories flooded into her mind at a break neck pace. Penelope graduating college and earning her Master of Letters. Curtis’ first day at Paddington Academy. All the years that the Temple-Noble would have missed came back thanks to the Doctor and his Blue Box. But someone was still missing and she had been for years.

“Evelyn…” the name of her adopted daughter came out of her mouth as a sigh. She had just called, but she did not want to be found. Wasn’t that why Donna had gone to Torchwood in the first place. She stood on shaking legs and made her way to the couch with the Doctor’s help.

“She isn’t safe is she…?” Donna asked, her eyes borrowing into the Doctor’s own ancient ones.

He shook his head. “No…I lost her a long time ago…I thought I was keeping her safe.”

“W-What do you mean _you_ lost her?! She left here when she was sixteen!” Donna said, her hands shaking, as Curtis and Penelope entered the house and they hurriedly headed upstairs to their rooms.

“It was the during the Great Time War. Evelyn as you named her…or as Missy named her, is an unusual child even for that of a Gallifreyin.”

Donna stared at him, unable to move, even draw breath for a moment. “So you aren’t alone…Evelyn is a Time Lord too?”

The Doctor shook his silver, white, and gray haired head. His hair reminded Donna of a snow storm, and she was happy to see that with the Doctor beside her, she was happy her mind did not implode. “No, not entirely.”

“You will get her back though, won’t you? You’ll bring her home…?” Donna pleaded, all she wanted was her hold her little girl in her arms again.

“I will do my best. Because the Time Loop around you has been broken…that means it has been broken around Evelyn as well.” The Doctor stood, getting the wrinkles out of his clothes with his hands, such a human thing to do, such a nervous human habit, that Donna smiled.

“Did Missy take her memories or did you?” Donna asked, she wished he would not leave so soon.

“I did. I wanted Evelyn to have a human life…a normal existence.” The Doctor replied. “She would not have had one on Gallifrey. She would not have been safe.”

“Were you like her father on Gallifrey?”

“Yes, for a time. Her mother…met a tragic death…and her father was quiet mad…mentally unstable.” The Doctor stood in the corner of Donna’s rather large room and lifted his fingers to his mouth, but the red-haired woman with the passionate heart that Doctor so lovingly admired stopped him.

“When you find her. Bring her back here, I want you to sit in this living room and tell us her story. Please?”

The Doctor could deny her request, “I will. I promise. Hopefully she has found someone, who will help her to find me as well. We will need to find each other.” Donna hugged him tightly and he embraced her gently back.

The mother of an adopted daughter from Gallifrey stood back and watched as the Doctor whistled and the T.A.R.D.I.S. surrounded him. The Doctor let out an exhausted sigh and glanced at his alien companion from the planet, Mendorax Dellora, Nardole.

“The Master…how could allow such a madman to survive?” he asked, his hands still fiddling with controls.

“She now. Missy, I could not bring myself to kill her. If I had known she would try too…she’ll never stop.”

Nardole nodded, “So we are off to meet this…Evelyn?” he began to adjust the knobs and switches.

“Yes, I believe we will meet her very soon.” The Doctor smiled sadly and sat back as the T.A.R.D.I.S whirred to life.

He feared for the Lost Girl, the Earth, and Missy’s next devious plot.


	6. Eggs and a Stern Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 will be posted on Monday, December 10. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos! :)
> 
> -little sloth

The Lost Girl known as Evelyn awoke with Sherlock’s hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the screams that escaped into the still night air, screams that echoed from her nightmares. She took her own two hands and pried the highly functioning sociopath’s hand from where it was clamped.

She sat up slowly, gulping in air like a fish out of water. Inhale, exhale, to calm her racing heart. She shakily unwrapped herself from the covers and with wobbly legs made her way into the bathroom, leaving the detective to sit at the edge of the bed. She cupped her hands and splashed water on her face, only when she lifted her face toward the mirror did she discover why Sherlock had been staring at her with both awe and maybe a tad bit of worry, when she did she had to choke back another howl. This one of shock rather than terror.

Instead of looking like a scrawny sixteen-year-old with barely-there breasts, she had aged ten years in her sleep. She now had one of her thin fingers pulling the fabric of Sherlock’s buttoned down shirt to peak at her blossomed bosom. Her hips were also curvy as was the rest of her. She had become a woman while the sights of blood and bright blue light haunted her mind while she slept.

She glanced over at Sherlock, who was leaning against the doorframe, his face blank. But she could tell by the way his eyes scanned over her slowly that he studying her transformation with intrigue. A sudden booming in her chest that felt like a repeating explosion within her body, sent her reeling. She landed roughly on the closed toilet lid, struggling once again to breath, the world in front of her blurring viscously. Her honey colored eyes drifted to where her coal-black broken pocket watch lay on the nightstand in the guest room, it was puffing out golden dust again, this time in plumes, like a kaleidoscope of butterflies the golden dust suddenly surrounded her and entered her lungs through her mouth and nose.

Evelyn felt as if she was choking, as if she could not get enough air. The continuing rumbling heavy explosion that felt like a second heart coming to life, shook her body. Tears were leaking from her eyes and into her ears, she groped blindly in the air for Sherlock’s hand, trying not panic. His hand engulfed her own, even though she had aged it did not change how much smaller she was compared to Sherlock Holmes.

The screams echoed in mind, screams of those long forgotten. And suddenly she was there to the place she had been before she had been found in the alley screaming for him, for the Doctor. They were everywhere, those monsters. Hunting down anyone that made their home on Gallifrey. Evelyn did what her guardian told her to do and hid. She squeezed herself underneath her bed and shut her eyes tight.

She heard the crash and breaking of the door before she felt it. She tried not to whine out in fear and tried her best to make herself smaller and more hidden. Anything to stay alive just so she could see the man that protected her. The Doctor.

She pressed her hands against her ears hoping to block out their horrid voices. They were going to kill her, if they found her, she would die. She could hear them searching, the house was small, they would find her soon. Oh, so very soon.

With her eyes still squeezed shut so much that it hurt, she heard someone shifting and wiggling to get beneath the bed, she could hear the dust whooshing and clinging to the fabric of the stranger’s outfit. She did not want to her open her eyes, she was too scared, too frightened. But she took his hand anyways as he helped her crawl out, but she did open her eyes. Just to peek, just to see who was saving her from the metal-incased floating monsters that threatened to kill her with bright blue light that showed the victim’s bones for mere moments.

He had dark brown hair that was very uppity, a long brown trench coat of sorts, and red trainers. His eyes might have changed color to a deep coffee brown, but they were still his eyes. Tears, blurred her vision and she smiled, his name, his precious title passing her trembling lips out of joy instead of fear. “Doctor!”

He grinned at her, “Yes, you will always know, won’t you? Come then, _Allons-y!”_ he lifted her toward the open window and helped her to get down into the yard and into the arms of another, well, him.

But this time he wore a bowtie, was mostly legs, and his hair kind of wilted. His eyes had changed color, back to the hazel green that she knew best. This version of him smiled at her too and took her hand in his own. She was so small, compared to him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his sonic screwdriver in his hand.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting. We need to run!” She said, rather panicked now that she could hear the gurgling deep under water voices of the creatures that wanted her and every other Gallifreyin dead.

The version of the Doctor with the red shoes followed closely behind as they ran toward his blue box, his broken and battered T.A.R.D.I.S. When her little legs could longer carry her, when she had made it as far as the words, ‘NO MORE’ had been blasted into a wall, that was when the Doctor, the one with the navy blue bowtie, gathered her into his arms and made it the rest of the way.

It was not until they were safely within the T.A.R.D.I.S that she saw the one she knew best. With his old grey hair and beard and dusty clothes. He sat on something that might have resembled a bench and she scrambled her own worn out body to sit beside his. He simply wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head.

“We can’t stay here for much longer.” The Doctor with the red trainers said as the machine rumbled to life.

“I know…” her Doctor replied, his voice rumbled in her ear.

“She’ll be safe with…” The Doctor with the bowtie began to say and the one with red sneakers, his face dropped a little with worry and guilt.

“Doctor Donna…or rather just Donna now.” The other Doctor nodded in reasoning, her own simply nodded in agreement.

When they came to an empty alley, it was her Doctor who led her to a safe spot out of the rain. The one with the red sneakers fished something out of the pockets of his coat and tied it around her neck with a piece of blue string. A coal black pocket watch that felt heavy against her chest. The one with the blue bowtie hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek. There were tears in his hazel eyes as he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

It was then that everything went fuzzy and dark, and then she was lost and alone, and scared. She could not remember who she was, or where she was, or when she was, or how she had even gotten there. All she knew was that the name ‘Doctor’ would get her help and to not let go of her coal black pocket watch.

Evelyn’s mind spun in a misty haze as she came back to where she knew was, not where she had been. She still held on to Sherlock’s hand and they were still in his flat, in his bathroom. The mirror was still very much shattered; it was the remaining pieces that clung to the frame that showed her that she had aged. And she still slumped on the toilet awkwardly like a drunkard or a person on sleep-inducing pain medications.

She glanced over at the high functioning sociopath, her tear stained lips moved to form the words, ‘Thank you.’ But the words were drowned out by a scream that was slightly muffled even with the thin walls. Sherlock glanced at Evelyn, it was the sound of the store front window shattering that sent the pair rushing for the door and down the flight of stairs. Sherlock paused if only for a moment to grab his gun, and Evelyn snatched her pocket watch from where it lay on the nightstand, it felt warm like freshly baked bread that had just started to cool, she hastily hung it around her neck and bounded after Sherlock and his long strides down the stairs, the door slamming loudly shut behind them. When they finally made it out on to the sidewalk, glass was everywhere and Mrs. Hudson had backed herself into the corner. It was the thing that had cornered Sherlock’s landlady that made Evelyn’s freeze, her eyes becoming wide with fear.

The emotionless mutant encased in a floating metal contraption turned to face the man and the Lost Girl. Its voice sent chills down Evelyn’s spine, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run but she knew it would be useless to do either and she could not just leave Sherlock and Mrs. Hooper to die. “Impure child.” It ground out with its garbled underwater computerized voice, its whisk and plunger now facing her.

Sherlock fired at the creature, the bullets bounced off of the metal and ricocheted, embedding themselves in the walls. Tears began to blur her vision. “I-I won’t let you take away these people; I won’t allow you to kill them too! I WON’T ALLOW IT!” The broken coal black pocket watch around her neck became hot, nearly burning her skin, she wrapped it in her hands and it could slowly feel the gears in it beginning to turn.

Sherlock was stunned to the least, this monstrous otherworldly being was about to kill them, he could see a ray of blue light starting to form and coming toward them. He glanced over his shoulder at Evelyn, her own eyes were burning the color of the golden dust that had been pouring out of the pocket watch moments earlier. Symbols began to form on her arms, symbols he didn’t recognize, an alien tongue perhaps? Circles and swirls that made no sense to him, it almost seemed like tribal art, but the marks looked as if they were painful, burned in by a hot poker.

“NO MORE!” Evelyn screamed out the words, trembling and even with the pocket watch burning on the flesh on her hands she didn’t let go of it. She watched with awe as time began to slow down as if everything was underwater. “No more…please…” she whispered now, her voice hoarse and choked with tears. The bright blue light stopped moments from hitting Sherlock in the chest and Evelyn found herself moving in front of him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her arms and chest felt as if they were on the fire and her body quaked with exhaustion. She turned toward the alien creature…the Dalek. That’s what it was…she remembered now. The “perfect soldier” …it and its kind had taken everything from her.

She stepped toward it and slammed the pocket watch into it, the metal around the Dalek began to melt away like butter against a hot knife. The Dalek screamed the words, “Impure Child!” before she could continue the damage she had caused, a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her away, she could hear the pocket watch’s gears grinding again, starting to tick. She loosed herself from the hold of the man that had held her arm and ran toward Sherlock. She shoved all of her strength into him, knocking him to the ground just as the blue light grazed the fabric of the detective’s coat sleeve and destroyed the wall behind.

The monster that was inside the metal casing was now exposed because of Evelyn’s odd pocketwatch, a squid like creature the color of human skin with a single yellow eye. Sherlock raised his gun and fired, once, twice. He was only satisfied when he heard the creature shrieking in agony and did not stop loosing bullets into it until it stopped moving. The detective righted himself from where he had been laying on his side and moved to help Mrs. Hudson out of the nook, she had crammed herself into to be safe.

Evelyn picked herself off the ground and turned to look at the man who had pulled her away from killing the Dalek. He wore a military coat and had dark hair, and was indeed rather handsome. But there was something off about him, Time wrapped around him like a cloak, aging him, but not allowing him to die. Evelyn pitied him. Had the Doctor done this to him? While Sherlock was trying to calm down Mrs. Hudson, Evelyn approached the Accidental Immortal Man, her pocket watch was now silent and still. “Who are you? Did he send you? Or did she?”

“Jack Harkness of Torchwood, the Doctor sent me.” He said with a smile.

“The Doctor…not Missy…” Evelyn glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of her honey colored eyes. “Y-You don’t have to stay with me now, I’ll be fine.”

Sherlock Holmes was not sure what to say to the Lost Girl that had found him. He did not want to leave her, he wanted to see this entirely mad and improbable case through to end. It had hooked him, dug in its claws and would not allow him to leave. “No. I’ll stay…I want to see where this ends.”

Evelyn found herself grabbing Sherlock’s hand. “It’s going to be dangerous, life-threatening even.”

Sherlock looked down at her and smirked. “I know.”


	7. Such a Simple Word

Home.

 

That one word meant so much to Evelyn. She had a home with the Doctor, but he had stolen it away from her, trying to protect her. When she found a new home with the Temple-Noble family, she felt loved there with them, she truly had. Except for maybe when it came to her relationship with Penelope, but she had ran away to protect them from Missy Mummy. Evelyn just seemed to lose every home she had one way or another. She glanced at Sherlock, the detective was busy studying the people that walked past them. Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood stood nearby pacing like a caged animal longing to be free from its prison. And what about her? She sat on the rim of the fountain beside Sherlock, clutching her pocketwatch that hummed softly in her hand like a kitten purring.

 

They had stopped at a clothing store on the way to the meetup place that had chosen by the Doctor, she did not want to meet him in one of Sherlock’s torn button down dress shirts and a pair of the man’s pajama bottoms that she had to roll up several times along her waist, just so they would not drag underneath her barefeet and trip her. Now she wore a midnight blue t-shirt that said in white capital swirly letters: Old Keys Won’t Open New Doors. Along with what were supposedly called boyfriend jeans with a pair red converses, a checkered black and navy blue hoodie with faux white fur along the outside edge of the hood kept out the cold wind that whistled against the fabric protecting her skin. Evelyn had felt guilty asking Sherlock to buy them for, along with several pairs of underwear and socks, which had embarrassed her to no end. She was far too mortified to ask him to buy her bras, yet alone to have to question Jack Harkness or Sherlock what they thought her cup size would be or how many inches around it would equal too. But she felt a lot better in clean clothing, and was just glad that Sherlock Holmes had not made a big deal out of it. The unworn items stayed in a brown paper bag at her feet.

 

“Clothing is a basic need.” was all that he said about it, before paying. In fact, he did not seem to make a big deal out of much of anything. Evelyn glanced over the detective's shoulder to see him browsing the internet from his phone, searching for anything he could find on Daleks.

 

Evelyn leaned into Sherlock’s arm. He was too engrossed in his search for information to notice and the hybrid female Gallifreyan was too worn out to care. Her eyes closed like lead, and she felt herself being pulled into a memory she thought she had forgotten about.

 

_It happened when she was still living with Missy Mummy and had awoke in the middle of the night from a horrible dreams about people screaming as they died and the words ‘No More’ had been on her lips when she clawed her way out of the depths of that nightmare. She had come downstairs hoping that cup of hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows and whip cream would calm her, and help her to sleep more easily without the wraith haunting her behind her closed eyes._

 

_Once she was closer to the kitchen, she could see that one of the lowlights was on and that made her stop in her tracks. Her barefeet inches away from leaving worn carpet and onto the cool faded blue and chipped tile of the kitchen, she froze and listened. She could hear the tinkling of a tiny spoon hitting the side of a cup, and the low murmur of her foster mother saying ‘Stop beating, so I can rest.’_

 

_Missy glanced over her shoulder, she was wearing a pale lavender nightgown with a silk robe pulled around her. Her dark chocolate hair spilled around her shoulders freely, and her face was unburdened by makeup and she seemed weary and in pain. She smiled gently when she saw Evelyn peering at her from the kitchen entryway. In order for Missy’s plan to succeed, she needed to take care of Evelyn and make sure the girl grew up not knowing what she truly was._

 

“ _Why are you awake, darling?” Missy asked as Evelyn hesitantly walked toward her, the innocent little child afraid that she was in trouble._

 

“ _I had a bad dream...why are you up?” Evelyn inquired, she could feel fear seeping into mind when Missy picked her up and hefted her onto her lap, as if they were mother and daughter and not orphan and foster parent._

 

“ _Just a headache.” Missy lied. Lying seemed to come so easily to the once Galifreyan known as Master, but Evelyn had not been focused on her words back then, instead her curiosity was drawn to the circles that Missy had made from the heap of sugar that had spilled from its beehive shaped container._

 

_The sugar was in the shape of swirling void, a swirling void that had meant nothing to Evelyn back then, in fact she had fallen asleep against Missy. The Time Lady had carried and tucked her into bed, the most motherly gesture she had ever given to any being that had being that had been her charge._

 

Evelyn was jostled awake by Sherlock shifting himself into a standing position. The sound of brakes groaning and space time shifting forced Evelyn to become more alert to her surroundings. Suddenly a midnight blue police box appeared in the shifted space time. The box opened with the snap of someone’s fingers from behind the once closed doors.

 

He stepped out with another alien close behind him, but Evelyn was not focused on the Mendoran. Her caramel brown eyes locked on to the Doctor’s. His eyes were blue now, almost a stormy kind of blue. His hair was now silver peppered with black, he did not have any gimmicks this time. No bow tie, brown trench coat, or red trainers. Instead the Doctor now wore a dark blue short Crombie-style coat with a red lining, dark blue trousers, a long collared white shirt buttoned to the top with no tie, a navy waistcoat, and brogue boots.

 

Simple as it might have appeared to him, Evelyn could not help thinking, “He was hoping for minimalism, but he came up with magician instead.” she clasped her hands over mouth when she realized she had said her thought aloud. It earned her a soft chuckle from Sherlock and a raised silvery eyebrow from the Doctor.

 

Were his bushy silver eyebrows his gimmick now? They definitely drew attention, that was for certain.

 

He appoarched her and Evelyn found herself reaching for Sherlock’s hand, when she grasped it, the detective did not try to shake her off nor did he intertwine their fingers. That left a disappointed feeling in Evelyn’s heart. Was she truly falling for a cold logic-based human man such as Sherlock Holmes?

 

Holmes only thought of her as a curiosity, a mystery that needed to be solved. That was all, wasn’t it? And besides Evelyn herself, surely was not human. Not after what she had done to the Dalek that had attacked Sherlock’s landlady and how she had some slow-down time to a snail’s pace. A normal everyday human would not be able to manipulate Time Space, a normal everyday human would not come from a plant such as Gallifrey with two suns, and deep red grass.

 

Evelyn pulled herself away from staring at Sherlock, her heart, _hearts_ (her mind cruelly and coldly corrected her further that she was not of this Earth) twisted and ached, if she was truly a Gallifreyan or a hybrid of some sort then she could not live out a normal life, she could not be with Sherlock Holmes, the Great Detective of 221B Baker Street, no matter how much Evelyn wanted to be by his side. The Fates must certainly be stone-hearted.

 

Evelyn dragged herself out of her unfortunately true and hope devouring thoughts found the Doctor and his Mendoran studying her. Evelyn cleared her throat which stopped the Mendoran from pressing a stethoscope that he must have dug up from his blood red coat, against her chest without permission. She raised an eyebrow and dared him silently to try, thinking that her deeply buried powers over Time Space would activate and stop the Mendoran from treating her like a test subject.

 

But the Doctor stopped him and took the stethoscope from the bald alien’s grasp.

 

Evelyn did not get a word calculated in her mind or a full sentence as Captain Jack Harkness stepped forward.

 

“I can help with whatever is going on.” he said, his blue eyes met Evelyn’s. It was as if he was sad for her, sad that she had gotten caught up in some sort of ongoing ancient feud between the Doctor and Missy. “You’re going to need backup.”

 

“We’re not even sure what Missy has concocted yet.” The Doctor said with patience and fact. His accent had changed. It had always been an estuary accent, or when it came to bowties are cool phase, a more posh sound. Now the Doctor spoke with Glaswegian accent, which Evelyn found rather fitting to this more mature version of the man who had raised her for awhile when she was young and innocent.

 

“When you figure it out, let me know.” He looked at Evelyn when he said this, as if his trust that he had once had with the Time Lord had been shattered at some point in their long lives and he had never fully forgiven the Doctor for what had happened.

 

Suddenly and without warning Jack pulled the Gallifreyan hybrid toward him into an embrace and whispered into her ear, “Be careful around him, the Doctor always finds a way to hurt the ones that he cares for most.” the Captain of Torchwood released her and left with his coat bellowing up behind him almost dramatically.

 

Sherlock had walked past the Doctor and his alien companion, he placed a hand on the wood of the TARDIS and then walked around it, searching thoroughly for cameras or some other form of foreign technology that could have made the TARDIS appear as it did, some way for it to be probable and not impossible. Would he really take the answer as it was? That the technology was as foreign as it could possibly be, it was alien, otherworldly.

 

No. Evelyn shook her head in amusement. Sherlock Holmes would explore the very depths of the TARDIS, all of her nooks and crannies until he knew exactly how she was able to do what she did, he would learn all of the alien machine’s secrets and learn possibly learn how to fly her, if the Doctor would even allow the Earthling known as Holmes to do as such.

 

“That’s Sherlock, he helped me find you.” Evelyn explained, she truly wished to hug the Doctor to feel like she was home again, but she knew that even if she did it would not matter. Home was the very important something she would have to find after this whole “Missy’s Master Plan” had been dealt with.

 

“You have chosen a very intelligent companion for yourself.” the Doctor’s thirteen reincarnation pointed out and watched with wide blue eyes as the TARDIS’ door opened when Sherlock actually did the sign said and pulled the door open, instead of pushing.

 

“He just wants to see the improbable.” Evelyn in answer to the reason as to why she was the detective and also as to why he was going inside the Time And Relative In Space machine. The Hybrid alien followed Sherlock inside the TARDIS, even though the Doctor’s companion protested.

 

Evelyn plopped herself down into one of the seats watched with amusement as Sherlock explored the interior of the Doctor’s machine that he had stolen. But if the TARDIS wanted to, she would explain that it was her idea to steal the Doctor.

 

The Doctor sat down next to her and Evelyn quickly dug out her journal and a pencil out of the case that was also in her bag. She went to a blank page and drew what Missy had drawn into the sugar. “What is this? Missy drew it one night when I was little, after you...left me…”

 

The Doctor let fear drop into his eyes and face, before he composed himself again. “That is the Untempered Schism.”

 

Sherlock leaned over to look at the drawing that Evelyn had done, their cheeks nearly touching. “What does this Untempered Schism accomplish?”

 

The aged and wise Doctor answered hesitantly, “We stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space, just a child. Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad.”

 

“What about me, why wasn’t I forced to stand in front of the Untempered Schism?” Evelyn questioned.

 

“It was the Time War that saved you from the fate of looking in the Vortex.” the Doctor replied, “Also you were too young.”

 

“What happens now?” Sherlock asked, he stole the Doctor’s seat beside Evelyn as the Time Lord got the TARDIS up and running.

 

“We confront Missy.” The Doctor and Evelyn said in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 will be posted on Monday, December 17th.
> 
> \- little sloth


	8. Clues Within a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine will be posted on Friday, January 4th. 
> 
> -little sloth

She sat on the floor in the library of the TARDIS as it hummed and whirred, spun and shook through the expansion of Timespace like a rollercoaster off its rails. And of course, the Doctor never took his foot off the brake either, so the time machine/spacecraft continued to make its grinding whoosh noise without end. She wanted someplace quiet and somewhere away from the Time Lord. Now that Evelyn remembered everything, she could not help but be angry with him. He had abandoned her, left her on Earth with no way to defend herself and not even her memories to cling too. The Doctor had tried to justify his reasons, of course, he had because in his own eyes it seemed as if he had done everything he could. But in Evelyn’s eyes, he had left a child all alone, and Missy had taken her under her care. And the Doctor had left her trapped in the effects of the Time Loop that Missy had created for twelve years.

 

Evelyn was not sure who to trust anymore. She could not help but trust the Doctor, the man who had become like a father to her and had raised her on Gallifrey. They were tracking Missy too the far reaches of Timespace. They were going to Karn, place where the Sisterhood of said planet resided. Evelyn liked to think of them of as the “Nuns” of Gallifrey. They protected the Flame of "Eternal Life”, and crafted the Elixir of Life from water that was part of an underground spring. It passed through the rocks heated by the Sacred Flame directly below them. The rocks contained rare minerals and compounds that were released into the water when heated by the Flame. The Sisterhood took their time making the Elixir of Life every one hundred years.

 

Evelyn maneuvered her way around the library and just as she about the grab the book from the shelf, having to get on the tips of her toes just to reach it, her fingers barely brushing the spine of _Pythia: the History of the Matriarch_ , when she felt her mind slip away into a memory she had long forgotten.

 

_Evelyn had been holding tightly onto the hand of the Doctor, she must have been only four or five. She had been wearing a plain overall dress with a red and white long sleeved shirt underneath, her feet had been barefoot and dirty, she had only been playing outside moments before, climbing rocks and exploring. Before the Doctor had brought her different clothes to wear, she had been wearing a mustard yellow dress with the same matching robes as the Sisterhood. They were standing in front of the Sisterhood now, after the High Priestess had helped her to change into the clothes the Doctor had kindly given to her._

 

_All of them were wearing blood red robes, one of the eldest ones with silver hair was holding on tightly to a younger Sister, who had sand colored hair and soft caramel brown eyes._

_She wept and wept, and before Evelyn could protest, the woman picked her up and held her in her lap, the woman’s long fingers began to weave Evelyn's hair into a braided crown._

_While she stubbornly wiped away tears with her hand every moment a tear dared to blur her vision and slip down her cheeks, and sniffle loudly._

 

_The eldest Sister, the High Priestess, let out a tired sigh. “Anise, the Planet of Karn is not a place for a child to grow. She will be safest with the Doctor.”_

 

_The Sister called Anise, stopped braiding Evelyn’s hair and her face fell in defeat, fresh tears streaming from her eyes that matched Evelyn’s own. “I-I know…”_

 

“ _If he finds out about his daughter and that her existence was kept from him…” the High Priestess, Ohilia’s voice was bitter with warning._

 

_Anise embraced Evelyn tighter, repeating herself. “I know...I just…” Anise dragged her eyes away from her daughter and to the Doctor. “He is your closest friend and you would keep her from him?”_

 

_The Doctor cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, he won’t find out.” He reluctantly took Evelyn out of Anise’s arms and back into his own._

 

_Anise began to weep again, through her sobs, Evelyn heard her say, “Please don’t let any harm come to my darling girl.”_

 

The woman’s face was still etched in her mind as Evelyn shook her head roughly and pulled her fingers away from _Pythia: The History of the Matriarch,_ a face so like her own. Evelyn dug out her journal from where it was buried in the depths of her satchel and quickly drew the Sister of Karn’s face before she would forget it. Instead of writing down Anise, she shakily wrote out mother with a question mark at the end, guilt ate away at her. Donna Temple-Noble had always been her mother, and now her brain had decided to plague her with new information that hurt her heart.

 

If her biological mother had been a Sister of Karn as her memory had shown her, was her mother a descendent of Pythia? Could she have psychic abilities and the power of precognition? It would not entirely explain how she could slow down time to a snail’s crawl and how she had such a powerful connection to Sherlock, when she had not known it was Sherlock she was looking for, she had been getting pulled toward him as if they were magnets. And now, now she could not stop thinking about him, which heated her cheeks and made her smile goofy.

 

Evelyn shook her head, her curtain of dark chocolate hair coming loose from the braid she had tried to plait it into. She needed a distraction, a distraction from her anger at the Doctor and the feeling of being smitten with Sherlock. She grabbed _Pythia: the History of the Matriarch_ from its spot on the shelf, she also took out _The Mysteriousness of the House of Jade Dreams, How the Sisterhood of Karn Became,_ and _The Human's’ Guide to Biology of Time Lords._

 

When Sherlock finally tracked down Evelyn, after searching the labyrinth of the TARDIS, she was surrounded by books, opened to numerous pages and chapters.

They surrounded her like flower petals and she was the stigma. Evelyn had wanted comfort, a sense of familiarity and safety. She pulled a book into lap, the title being _Time: A Concept_ that was pure Gallifreyin and her hearts practically leapt into her throat. It was a mixture of lines and circles, to a normal human this would have seemed like nonsense, a bunch of gibberish, but to her it was her home language finally returning to her after being trapped in recess of her mind. Her mother tongue.

 

Evelyn did not even hear Sherlock sit down beside her as she skimmed the book carefully and lovingly. “So, this the language of your planet?” He asked his eyes wanting to soak in every line and circle. New knowledge for him was probably the same as heroin to an addict.

 

“Yes, Gallifrey. I don’t really remember much about it. Sometimes, I’ll get flashes, like from the bulb of an old camera. Red grass and trees that had silver leaves. Gallifrey has two suns…” she stopped speaking, her eyes dropping back to the book. To the circles and the lines. Her eyes locked on her home language, on her first tongue.

 

“You’ll be leaving when this all is over and done with. Going back to Gallifrey.” it was not a question from Sherlock, but simply a statement. If Evelyn had a place where she truly belonged, then why would she not want to go back and stay there permanently?

 

“I-I don’t have to. I really don’t think I’ll want too.” Evelyn said and stood up, she had to go to a shorter bookshelf in the far reaches of the TARDIS’ library, but she found what she was looking for. _A Child’s Introduction to the Language of Gallifrey._ The Time Lord Hybrid also found a notebook and a mechanical pencil on a desk that covered with dust. Knowing the Doctor, he probably liked it because of the clicking noise it made, not because that if you pushed down to hard the lead would break into bits.

 

Evelyn turned around and of course, Sherlock had followed after her. They sat down together on the floor and Evelyn opened _A Child’s Introduction to the Language of Gallifrey._ Evelyn then found herself seated in between Sherlock’s outstretched legs, her head and back leaning against his chest. She wrote out Sherlock’s name for him.

 

The S and H were combined into a fat moon turned horizontal with a small curve into it.

 

The E was a full circle with a small circle at the very end of it, looped through like a chain.

 

The R was a fat horizontal moon with three black dots in its curve, one was to the left, a slightly larger one in the middle and the last one on the left.

 

The L was a was large circle with another smaller circle drawn within it at the top, and within that smaller circle where three black dots. One was to the left, a slightly larger one in the middle and the last one on the left, like a surprised face without a nose.

 

The O was a large circle with a small circle at the bottom.

 

The C was a large circle with a smaller circle within it with even smaller four dots within that circle.

 

The K was also was a large circle with a smaller circle within it, but instead of three with even smaller four dots within that circle, it had three.

 

Evelyn then rewrote the circles, she wrote the SH at the bottom and made it larger, and then worked her way from the bottom counterclockwise. She then dug out an ink pen from out of her own satchel and inked her handwork, she then dug out an eraser and erased the pencil lines. She handed it over to Sherlock, he smiled almost sadly.

 

“I would like to frame this. May I keep it? There is a high probability that after this all gone and done with, we will not meet again.”

 

“Of course,” The Not-So Lost Girl replied, the Detective stood up before her and offered his hand to help her up. “He has to have empty picture frames around here somewhere.” She took Sherlock’s hand in her own, telling herself as she intertwined their fingers, that she was only doing it so they did not get lost.

 

A horrible thought gripped Evelyn’s mind as she stopped suddenly and leaned against the wall, Sherlock stopped beside her, watching with curiosity in his eyes. Evelyn undid her pocket watch’s chain from out of the loops in her jeans and held the black fob watch in her hand. Etched in silver in lines and circles was a name written in the Gallifreyin Alphabet.

 

The circles and lines did not form Evelyn. They formed an entirely different name.

The Time Lord hybrid knew what her name meant, it meant hazelnut, the English version of the French name, Aveline. Donna had given her the name when they adopted her, she despised the name that Missy had given her. Even thinking of her old name made her sick.

 

Evelyn was so happy that Donna and Sean had given her the name Evelyn Grace.

 

It made much easier for her to start her life with the Temple-Noble family. A new name for a new life.

 

But this name on her pocket watch, it did say Evelyn and it did not say, Euphrosyne. Euphrosyne the name that Missy had given her, she was glad it did not say that. But this name, this name made her blood run cold with fear.

 

She felt herself leaning into Sherlock, and the lean man held her close to him.

 

Forget the frame, she needed to speak to the Doctor now.


	9. Almost Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 will be posted on Wednesday, January 16th. I am not entirely positive if their is going to be a continuation to this story.
> 
> -little sloth

Evelyn stared at the coal black pocket watch cradled in between her hands like an egg that would crack at any moment. The words that Jack Harkness had whispered in her ear haunted her "Be careful around him, the Doctor always finds a way to hurt the ones that he cares for most." it was a warning she should have heeded better. This watch had held her memories inside of it until she needed them most.

She had fought off the Dalek, she had murdered it with the help of Sherlock. Would the Doctor approve of her actions had he had been there? No, of course not. He was too soft hearted. Had he changed over the time he abandoned her? He had lost and found companions, and had lost them again. He almost seemed cold and uncaring, almost.

Evelyn’s lithe fingers rubbed along the grooves of lines and circles. This name on the pocket watch, had her biological mother given it to her before the Doctor stole her away for safekeeping? If she translated the lines and circles from her native tongue, would it change her in anyway? Could she still be Evelyn Grace Temple-Noble?

After all of this was over, after they stopped Missy from accomplishing her master plan, what would become of her? Memories slammed together chaotically in her brain. Evelyn felt herself slump against Sherlock, as the Detective caught her and held her to him.

_"Saxon…and Missy…they have the same smile, the same look in their eyes. The same madness. It's as if they were the same person."_

_"They couldn't possibly." Holmes said, his fingers reaching toward a teacup, the liquid within now cold._

_All of them were wearing blood red robes, one of the eldest ones with silver hair was holding on tightly to a younger Sister, who had sand colored hair and soft caramel brown eyes._

_She wept and wept, and before Evelyn could protest, the woman picked her up and held her in her lap, the woman's long fingers began to weave Evelyn's hair into a braided crown.While she stubbornly wiped away tears with her hand every moment a tear dared to blur her vision and slip down her cheeks, and sniffle loudly._

_The eldest Sister, the High Priestess, let out a tired sigh. "Anise, the Planet of Karn is not a place for a child to grow. She will be safest with the Doctor."_

_The Sister called Anise, stopped braiding Evelyn's hair and her face fell in defeat, fresh tears streaming from her eyes that matched Evelyn's own. "I-I know…"_

" _If he finds out about his daughter and that her existence was kept from him…" the High Priestess, Ohilia's voice was bitter with warning._

_Anise embraced Evelyn tighter, repeating herself. "I know...I just…" Anise dragged her eyes away from her daughter and to the Doctor. "He is your closest friend and you would keep her from him?"_

_The Doctor cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, he won't find out." He reluctantly took Evelyn out of Anise's arms and back into his own._

_Anise began to weep again, through her sobs, Evelyn heard her say, "Please don't let any harm come to my darling girl."_

The faces of Missy and the Master swirled together and turned into one being. Evelyn felt the pocket watch in her hands become so hot, it had become to smoke, billows of gold dust coming from it in large plumes. It made her sick, her body ready to heave out the meal that Sherlock had treated her to after their clothes shopping. Food was also a necessity of survival after all. The fact that Sherlock had paid for her meal of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper meant nothing.

Her stomach might have felt like a rolling ship lost in a storm at sea, but she did not lose her food, which she was grateful for. But the pocketwatch still would not let her go.

The pocketwatch shuddered in her hand, she saw a foggy vision of herself. In this vision, no it was a memory.

_A memory that Evelyn’s mind had once claimed as a dream, to keep her calm and sane._

_In this memory, Evelyn was still a young child, still living with Missy and two girls that the Time Lady claimed were her daughters._

_They had with matching bitter black licorice colored braids that went down to drape at the end of where their ribcages were, their skin was pale, nearly paperwhite. It was Rebecca and Catherine’s eyes that sent shivers down Evelyn's spine, they were the color of amber sunset beams that had drifted through a windowpane and had made the dust in the air come to life and be seen. Gorgeous, but dead. There was not a spark of life or a touch of soul within them._

_Rebecca and Catherine, who had been more like Missy’s dogs then daughters. They made sure that Evelyn never strayed to far from what they claimed was her home._

_They had taught her how to write and read, they had taught her to stop writing in lines and circles, which Missy merely claimed as scribbles. But Evelyn saw Missy stow them away in a desk drawer that was in sitting room with a soft smile on her face, it was a nearly motherly smile._

_In this memory that the pocketwatch had drawn out from the hiding places within her mind. It was late at night, when Evelyn’s bedroom door creaked open, the little girl rolled over and looked with only a half awake mind at the clock that rested on her nightstand. The pale dark green blocky numbers read as three thirty in the morning. Evelyn was about to roll back over and go back to sleep when she saw Missy come in from where she had been peeking in at the crack in the open door._

_Missy crept into the bedroom and gripped Evelyn’s coal black pocket watch, all she wanted were more of Evelyn’s scribbles. More of her lines and circles, this time done in a rainbow of crayons. The pocket watch became hot, like a branding iron being heated by flames. Missy cried out which fully awoke Evelyn._

_The cry had also alerted Catherine and Rebecca. The pair came rushing into the room, their matching bitter black licorice hair was loose and flowed down their back like waves, they were barefoot. The pocketwatch had clattered to the floor with a heavy clunk, the papers covered in the rainbow of wax from box of crayons scattered along the floor._

_Missy held her hand cradled against her chest. Her fingers and palms were burned badly, Catherine led her out of the bedroom that had been dubbed as belonging to Evelyn. Rebecca did her best to calm down, Evelyn. She had been woken by Missy’s outcry, the young Time Lord Hybrid turned human by the Doctor, stumbled past Rebecca and watched with wide eyes as Missy’s hand began to glow a bright amber color with gold dust surrounding it._

_Before Evelyn could form any questions she felt the pinprick of a needle against her neck. The world began to fade away as if she was underwater, her body felt warm and tingled as if her limbs had fallen asleep._

_Just as the drug was about to drag her down into sleep completely, she heard Missy screech. “That horrid watch stole from my mind!”_

Said pocket watch pulsed like a heartbeat and she was brought into a memory that was not her own.

She found herself standing like a ghost in front of Missy and a woman with short dark brown hair.

_They were seated across from each other at a cafe table. In between the two of them was a Confession Dial._

_It was a small, circular disk, crafted with what looked like gold. The Confession Dial was used as part of a Gallifreyan ritual act, an act of purification. It allowed a dying Time Lord to face their demons and make their peace, before their mind was uploaded to the Matrix. It was often referred to as the last will and testament of a Time Lord. According to ancient tradition, it was to be delivered to their closest friend on the eve of their final day. Evelyn remembered something else about the Confession Dial. It could be re-purposed to expose someone to their greatest fears to drive them to confess; if the person did confess they would be released, otherwise they would be killed._

_Missy watched the other woman with dark hair, the other woman’s face was contorted into a mask of confusion. This only caused Missy to smirk in satisfaction._

“ _It’s a confession dial.” Missy explained, the sneer of her snarky pride stretching across her face._

_When the other woman still looked confused, and asked, “A what?”_

_Missy let out a sigh of annoyance, but she explained further nonetheless. “In your terms, a will. The last will and testament of the Time Lord known as the Doctor, to be delivered according to ancient tradition to his closest friend on the eve of his final day.”_

_The other woman glared coldly her dark bitter chocolate colored eyes turned icy, and said in an accusing tone. “Since when do you care about the Doctor?”_

“ _Since always.” Missy replied. “Since the Cloister Wars, since the night he stole the moon and the president’s wife, since he was a little girl. One of those was a lie, can you guess which one?”_

Anise’s words rang throughout her mind again, “ _"He is your closest friend and you would keep her from him?"_

Evelyn’s eyes snapped open and the pocketwatch released her, she gasped for air as if she had been drowning and needed air desperately to live.

“Missy and the Master are the same person!” she said through gasps of welcomed air.

“Yes, we know that, Evelyn.” The Doctor said in a matter of fact tone. He was sitting beside her and Sherlock in the hallway. Evelyn’s head was resting against Sherlock’s chest, his heart pounding in her ear.

“How is that even possible?” Sherlock asked. “Did she have gender reconstruction surgery?” the human man shook his head, no that could not be it all. The Master and Missy did not have the same facial structure, unless she had heavy plastic surgery to change her appearance to the one she desired.

“No, Time Lords can regenerate.” Evelyn explained. “But Missy and the Master are one in the same. The Master….is….was my father…” she looked up at the Doctor for clarification.

He could only nod, a simple yes was all Evelyn needed. “Yes, the Master wooed your mother, a Sister of Karn named Anise, and together, they created you…”

“These don’t say Evelyn...or Euphrosyne ….” she shuddered visibly as her tongue and lips allowed the second name to leave her mind and be spoken out loud.

“No, your mother named you, Corentine.”

When the Doctor said her birth name, Evelyn felt her hearts swell in unison. For some odd reason, now she felt almost completely whole. She knew what would make her an entire person, Time Lady, or whatever she was, and that was finding a place to call Home.

Her hearts ached for it to be Sherlock Holmes.

 


	10. At the End of the World: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 will be posted on Wednesday, April 3rd. Please leave a comment or a kudos. 
> 
> -little sloth

'Some are inspired, some run away, and some go mad…’

Missy paced in front of the Untempered Schism. The knife she held in her was sharp and dripping red with blood, it also stained her hands. The scent of death and blood caked the air, and the Time Lady could not help smiling. She stopped pacing and glanced down at her blood-soaked outfit, it used to be a beautiful Air Force blue empire waist dress with long sleeves, the dress fluttered out to her ankles. Now it was covered in bloody handprints and torn in various places, her little fire brick red bowler hat with a daisy tucked in it was what Missy thought was adorable askew on the right side of her head. Her ankle boots were carnelian, so all the blood that had gotten on her dress just seemed to pull the entire outfit together. At least it did to her, to anybody else she would have looked insane.

She stepped around the dead Time Lords in their heavy carmine colored robes and their heavy golden shoulder pads, their golden high fold collars and smooth protective golden helmet made them look like deformed turtles. The life liquid from their bodies had soaked into venetian red grass and orange earth, Missy began humming The Final Countdown by the band Europe.  
"Mother…" at the sound name humans called the female who had given birth to them, Missy turned around to her twin daughters, Rebecca and Catherine. She had had crafted herself a brand-new vortex manipulator, making a promise to herself that she would not lose her other daughters to the Doctor, like she had lost her beloved Corentine. Missy then traveled to different timelines and found what she was looking for, or rather who. She took her own baby daughter from when she was still the Master away from Gallifrey and the dangers that she knew the Time Lords would submit poor Rebecca too. 

Missy then traveled to an alternate timeline once more, where she was still the Master but was happily married to a very pregnant Lucy Saxon. Missy had to wait until the child was born before she could steal her away. Her beloved Catherine was reunited with her other parent, who was now female instead of male, and her half-sister, Rebecca.

Catherine was not like her sister, Rebecca was taller than her by a hair. But were Rebecca was full Time Lady, Catherine was only half. The licorice black hair dye that Catherine used to match her sister had begun to fade and the roots of her true hair color were beginning to gleam through. It was gorgeous white blonde, thick and silky, it pained Missy's hearts to watch her daughter hide the only trait she had gotten from her human mother, Lucy. Catherine plopped down on the blood soaked red grass and orange dirt below. She took out the contacts she wore to match Rebecca's amber orbs. Her eyes were actually the color the Master's had been when he was the Master of the World. They were a very murky brown, she crushed the contacts in between her fingers and smooshed them into the ground beneath her hand.  
Catherine did not even care that her tea length tea rose orange dress was now getting coated in blood and red grass stains. She stretched out her legs and stared down at her matching chukka boots.

Her thin and long fingers still gripped the longsword she had used to help her "mother" slay the other Time Lords. It was still coated in blood, Catherine wanted to wash it off, she wanted to use the TARDIS she had found while exploring the place, that Missy and the Doctor used to call home. Catherine needed to find Corentine, could she save her youngest half-sibling from her mother's horrid plan?

Catherine knew that if Missy found about her plan to rebel, her mother would probably slaughter her too. Catherine glanced over at her nine-month older sister, Rebecca. Rebecca's hair had come loose from the twin buns she had twisted them in before they had come to Gallifrey. Rebecca's bitter black licorice locks cascaded down her back near her waist, she held a butterfly knife in each hand, it was slick with the blood of the slaughtered Time Lords, the blood trickled down to Rebecca's wrists. She even had a smear on her cheek, there was a splash of it on the corner of her fairytale pink box pleated skirt. Her button down over blouse was sprinkled with it, giving the butterfly pattern that decorated it spotted wings.

Catherine could see that her sister's eyes were hollowed from emotion but wild with the insanity that Untempered schism had yanked out of her. When they had landed in Gallifrey clinging to the fabric of their mother's dress like frightened kittens, Missy had pried them off, when they located the Untempered schism, Rebecca had walked in front of it as if she was in a trance. Then Catherine saw it, she watched as her sister fell to knees and screamed and howled yanking at her hair and clutching her head. The Untempered schism had caused her sister to go mad.

"Drums! Mother, they won't stop! Mother, please them stop, please!" Rebecca wailed, Missy held her close for a moment, a wicked grinning spreading across Missy's face.

"Making these ancient geezers bleed will stop the drums, my darling Rebecca. I promise…" Missy lied.

Catherine turned to run, but her mother caught by the arm and practically yanked it out of the socket. Missy pushed Catherine to her knees and forced her to gaze into the untempered schism. Catherine did not go mad like Rebecca, no all she wanted to do was run, and when the Time Lords finally caught up to them, her only way out was to either let them kill her or she could kill them.  
Catherine chose the latter, she hauled herself to feet and sheathed her long sword after it wiping it clean of ick and gore in the grass. Missy was too busy consoling a now sobbing into fits of manic laughter Rebecca.

Catherine ran, she ran until her chest ached for air and the muscles in her legs felt like jelly. The Half Time Lady daughter of the Master and Lucy stared at the TARDIS, whose chameleon circuit was still functional. It looked like a wooden door with the heavy lion knocker, she struggled to open the door, but when she was able to get inside and slammed the door shut, she almost wept in relief. She staggered over to the control panel, she had lost her stupid chukka boots, the metal gave her aching feet a sense of relief, she nearly whimpered.

She wanted to get revenge for her mother, Lucy. It wasn't her mother's fault that she fell for the Master, his charms, and his ability to play with Time itself as if it were playdo. Catherine managed to get the TARDIS to function and was able to locate the lavatory. She let the TARDIS whirl and spin through Timespace.

Catharine shed away her bloody clothes and let the hot water pour over, the cheap dye she used to get her hair to match Rebecca's was drained away. She stepped out of the shower, squeaky clean and stared at herself in the mirror. Her heart pounded heavily, she needed to find clean clothes and find some way to track down Corentine.

Once Catherine was dressed in a pair of faded flare jeans, a V-neck t-shirt that said: Save the Chubby Unicorns!' in heavy black letters with the body outline of rhino in between the words save the and chubby. Catherine kept her feet bare, she tied her now blonde and black striped locks into a high ponytail once more.

Just as she belted her long sword through the loops in her jeans, her TARDIS shifted and launched her onto her stomach. Her TARDIS' walls that looked like the inside of cozy and homey pub or Bed and Breakfast split down the middle, the other half become a honeycomb pattern, pure white everything.

Catherine got to her hands and knees, she gazed up as her forehead suddenly met the cold metal of gun pressed against her skin, but the person who had it, their hand shook violently.  
Evelyn eyes narrowed with suspicion and fear. Catherine stared at her sister in disbelief, was she really about to be killed by her youngest sister's own hand?


End file.
